Lost Peak, The Triplets, The Fin

A couple of days ago on lucky ol' Friday the 13th I set off, once again, for Zion National Park. My excitement for the day was so extreme I didn't even eat breakfast. Just got up and got going lickety-split. I had no a set plan for the day; just wanted to do some off-trail exploring and check out some peaks in the process. Last week, on the summit of Nippletop, I recalled looking west and seeing a small collection of peaks that looked mighty interesting. Neat slickrock terrain, beautiful colors, hardy trees, cool lookin' rocks scattered everywhere—I just had to check them out. So with ideal weather in the forecast, I drove to the park and on through the famous mile-long tunnel, the sky dotted with fuzzy lookin' cirrus clouds. I pulled off the side of the road just before the 2nd tunnel, grabbed my gear, and then descended into a wash. The hike was on. 

Soft sand, gnarly manzanita, prickly bushes, gorgeous sandstone. No sound other than the occasional whoosh from a vehicle zooming up or down the highway. I walked in the wash, enjoying the cool morning air. I passed by this neat looking slot canyon, the whole thing brushy and filled with towering pine trees. Continuing along, I eventually left the wash and began ascending smooth, steep sandstone. Zigging and zagging, sometimes using my hands for balance, I rose higher and higher away from the wash, various Zion summits coming into view, all of them illuminated in the late-morning sunshine. 

Where I left the wash

The Ant Hill

Entering a slickrock bowl of sorts, I continued straight, heading towards Lost Peak. I soon saw its pointy summit in the distance, a brief bout of off-trail meandering later revealing its entire north ridge. Scanning the ridge, it looked like an interesting ascent up to an awesome view. I hurriedly made my way towards the base of the north ridge, wandering along animal trails, careful not to disturb the occasional patch of cryptobiotic soil. The closer I got to the peak, the more awesome it appeared. Once at the base, I immediately began ascending steep sandstone slabs, following a faint use trail when I could. 

Lost Peak

Some scrambling required

The climb up the ridge reminded me a lot of last week's ascent of Nippletop, mostly because it was steep and loose and crumbly and such. About halfway up or so I encountered a series of class 3/4 obstacles; some fun scrambling ensued. I'm sure there were ways to avoid these obstacles, but my lack of braincells had not the patience nor composure necessary for additional route finding. So I just climbed straight up the obstacles, scrambling with all four appendages on crumbly sandstone, swerving slightly to the east until finally reaching what I thought was the summit. 

There were two bumps up there, both of which looked to be equal in height. Since I had done zero research on this mountain I had no idea which bump was the true highpoint, so I checked out both of them just to be safe. Nice views of the Zion backcountry stretched off in all directions, with particularly excellent views of the Triplets and Nippletop to the east and the West Temple and Jenny Peak to the west.

Nippletop, The Triplets

View West

I sat down on the southern bump and had a nice breakfast of Clif Bar à la carte. Looking around, I tried to put names on some of the summits I could see in the distance, only able to name a few of them. And of course the very act of sitting on a summit and looking at other summits made me want to get out there and climb them. But there were too many, FAR too many to see, far too many to ever explore in a single lifetime. So many peaks, so many canyons, so many places to wander around and meander and roam, so many places to get good and lost and meditate on life and soak in the sun and listen to the wind ripping away the sandstone one granule at a time. It's a bit overwhelming, staring out at this landscape. I stopped thinking about it. Turned off my brain. Reapplied the zinc. Took another bite of the Clif Bar. Drank some water, swished it around and swallowed. Grabbed my pack, said goodbye and then headed back down, the scramble much more interesting on the descent. 

Once at the bottom, I veered west to check out a small bump of sandstone I had been eyeing on the descent: Lost Teton. The thing looked more like a giant lump of ice cream that fell out of the sky than a "teton," but hey, "Lost Teton" sounds a lot more cool than "Ice Cream Lump." I wandered over to its east face on several criss-crossing animal trails, the navigation straightforward and obvious. I picked the easiest way up the thing, encountering nothing worse than class 2 on the ascent. 

I reached the highpoint in good time, the views much the same as those seen on Lost Peak. I sat down and chugged some more water, gazing upon Lost Peak's west face. After about 4 minutes of mindless observation, I gathered my things and retraced my steps off the summit. 

Lost Teton

Interesting sandstone on Lost Teton

Lost Peak viewed from Lost Teton

Now it was time for the fun stuff. I worked my way back around Lost Peak's north ridge eyeing a collection of peaks to the east known as "The Triplets." The three white, crumbly, summits stood close together, looking like the petrified remains of some gigantic three-headed beast. Since they were so close to one another, I figured I'd attempt a traverse of all three peaks, going from west to east. Didn't really know what to expect other some obvious scrambling. The craziness of the scrambling was to be determined. I was excited to find out. 

The Triplets

But before I could attempt all that fun scrambling, I had to find my way over to the northwest face of the 1st Triplet. This involved traversing down steep slickrock slabs into a drainage and then climbing up out of the drainage towards the base of the peak. After a small amount of easy route-finding I had managed to make it to the base of the 1st Triplet, deciding to directly ascend the steep and crumbly slabs rather than go up an obvious gully. Going up the gully was probably the smarter move, but it looked brushy and tedious and the slabs looked interesting, so there you go. I carefully made my way up the slabs, navigating through some class 3 obstacles in the process. Before long I had made it to the saddle between the 1st Triplet and its smaller sub peak to the south. Not knowing which point was higher (just like on Lost Peak) I stupidly climbed the sub peak first, only to realize that it was indeed the shorter of the two. I corrected my mistake and soon I was standing on the 1st Triplet. One down, two to go. 

Ascending the steep northwest face of the 1st Triplet

Lost Peak viewed from the sub peak

The sub peak viewed from the 1st Triplet

I headed east, immediately running into the sheer eastern face the 1st Triplet. Man, I did NOT find the easiest way down that thing. I'm sure there's a way to keep it class 3, but I stupidly decided to navigate down a tricky move on a slanted slab with a tincy-wincy bit of exposure. But it was all good fun and I made it to the saddle and then the real challenge began: trying to find the way up to the 2nd Triplet.

East face of the 1st Triplet

At first I attempted to just go straight up the west face, but some class 4 moves on slanted sandstone slabs prevented me from doing so. If I had approach shoes I probably could've done it. My beat-up Altras with pieces of tread falling off probably weren't the best choice in footwear for the day but hey, you live and you learn. They simply lacked the traction and I found myself slipping on the steep slabs, a glaring indication that I needed to find an easier route. So I wrapped around to the south, trying to find a way up. 

I eventually found one, a series of class 2/3 slabs leading to the summit. The going was easy but the exposure was a tad concerning, just enough to get me to focus up and really test every hand and especially foothold I encountered. A quick bear crawl later and I was on the flat summit, the views much the same as on the 1st Triplet. Two down, one to go. 

The last Triplet viewed from the 2nd Triplet

I looked to the west and saw the remaining Triplet looming in the distance, the tallest of the three. The route to the summit looked a little sketchy, but I figured it couldn't be any worse than what I'd just done. So I carefully made my way off the 2nd Triplet, the going much easier on the descent. I was down at the saddle in a jiffy, staring up at the route ahead. It looked steep, but doable. I tightened my laces, straitened the tie, and then began the climb.

East face of 2nd Triplet

Headin' up the last Triplet

That last stretch to the summit was the best scrambling I'd done all day. Really, really fun; made the whole traverse worth it. Straightforward route, good holds, not too steep; just good, clean, beautiful class 3 scrambling. When I got to the top I was almost bummed that it was over. Almost. My legs were beginning to tire, and I was realizing that my 2nd Clif Bar would probably be just enough to get me through the day. Though more scrambling woulda been nice, it was gettin' to that point in the day where it was time to start wrapping things up. 

The summit

I sat down, chugged some water, took a few pictures, enjoyed the sights and sounds. Nippletop sat just to the northeast, its summit block clearly visible. Excellent views of the east rim of Zion Canyon could be seen to the north, the various cliffs and canyons glowing bright in the early-afternoon sunlight. After about seven minutes of filling my eyes to the brim with colors and shapes, I packed up my things and set off down the mountain, the descent of the northeastern face the easiest part of the traverse (in my opinion).

Looking back at the traverse

View east

Looking back at the descent off the final Triplet

I followed a faint use trail off the summit, sticking to the path of least resistance. When I eventually got to the bottom my legs weren't entirely dead, so I decided to check out a few more things, starting with the closest formation: The Fin. I hadn't done any research on this formation and from the looks of it the thing seemed pretty sketchy. I figured I might as well give it a try since I was in the area, so I made my way over to northwest face, finding a use trail that took me straight to the slabby cliffs. Pretty soon I encountered what I found to be the crux of the route, some class 3 downward-facing slabs with a fair amount of exposure to boot. I took it slowly carefully, making sure that I could actually get back down before I made any rash decisions to climb straight up the thing. Once past the crux the going was very steep, nothing easier than class 3. But soon I had reached the top of all that nonsense and it was easy walkin' the rest of the way to the high point. 

Looking down at the crux

The Fin

I reached the slanted high point, sat down, ate half of the Clif bar. The views were much the same as those on the tallest Triplet, although Nippletop was much, MUCH close now. Looking towards the tallest Triplet, I saw a small heard of bighorn sheep coasting down some slabs like it was nothing. Couldn't believe how fast they were going; they made it look so easy, like they were just out for an easy jog on the track or something.

The tallest Triplet viewed from The Fin

View west(ish)

Southeast

I didn't spend too much time on The Fin, just enough to stretch my legs and reapply the zinc and whatnot. As I was scanning the horizon, I noticed a little bump to the southeast, the provincial "Point of Compassion" no doubt. It was close by, and I was in the area, and it was still relatively early, so I thought "ehh, what the heck" and decided to check it out. A very slow and careful descent off The Fin later and I was on my way, wandering down a sandy wash, the weather still pleasant, not a single soul to be seen. 

"Point of Compassion"

I reached the Point of Compassion in no time, posting up on the comfy summit and eating the rest of the Clif Bar. I spent a good long while up there soaking in the views, spectacular slickrock terrain stretching as far as the eye could see. Though I felt no compassion, I certainly contemplated many things on this quiet summit, attempting to imagine the eons of time it took to form what I was now seeing in front of my face. I sat there on the sandstone, rubbing a small pebble in my hand, turning it into dust. What did this place look like a million years ago? A hundred million years? Five hundred million? And what will it look like in the future? What will happen to such a place?  Where will all this sand go? And what of the trees? What is to become of them? Far too much to think about. Far too much to contemplate. The majesty of the mountains puts you in your place and makes you feel insignificant, like you are no different than the grain of sand you're twirling in your fingers. Who needs the infinite expanse of the universe to make you feel small? All you need is a quick jaunt to the mountains. Simply bearing witness to them is overwhelming, especially for a brain as tiny as mine. So I stopped thinking and stared off into the distance, the sun warm on my skin, the sandstone gritty to the touch, the air clean and gentle on the nose, the breeze nearly inaudible. 

From left to right: The Triplets, The Fin, Nippletop

It's overwhelming!

West

And then it was time to go, so I retraced my steps back from whence I came. All that contemplation put me in an interesting mood, so I began to wander around, deviating from the standard route, just walking along and checking out bits and bobs as they passed on by. And wouldn't you know it? Found me some pictographs. I won't say where, but if you do manage to find them please don't do anything stupid with them. Behave as if you were in a museum. No touchy touchy. 

Here and there, up and down, I found my way back to the base of The Fin, deciding to reach one last high point for the day: the provincial "Temple View Point." It wasn't much of a climb, just an easy walk on sand and slabs to a nice overlook with great views of the surrounding country. It was a fantastic way to end the day; I could see every major summit I'd visited ( Lost Teton and the Point of Compassion were hidden unfortunately). I looked around, took a few more photos, and then began the long and scenic walk back to the car.

Tempe View Point

Nippletop (left) and The Fin (right)

The Triplets and Lost Peak

I descended down these beautiful red slickrock slabs, contouring around to the north of the Triplets, trying to find a way back into that drainage I'd visited earlier. Simple wandering and the occasional animal trail brought me there soon enough, and before I knew it I was climbing up out of the drainage, heading back to the familiar country I had explored that morning. 

On my way up I heard a voice, and the voice became a face, and the face said "Hello there." He was an old man wearing tan pants and a tan long sleeve shirt and a tan hat, and he was standing next to an old woman; they probably knew each other (just a guess bwahaha). We chatted a little bit, they telling me that they had gone up to Lost Peak and were heading back. They were the first and only people I'd see all day, which was strange since it was a Friday during Spring Break in one of the most popular National Parks in the country. We said our goodbyes, wished each other a good hike, and set off on our separate ways. 

Back in the wash...

I followed the steep slickrock terrain back into the wash I'd first visited in the morning, following it the rest of the way back to the car. Just as I was about to climb up to the road I heard a rustling noise, and there in the bushes were a couple of bighorn sheep munchin' on the grass, paying me no mind. I gave them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb their lunch. A short climb later and I was back to the car, back to the humdrum of civilization. 

It had been an excellent day in the sticks; couldn't have gone any better. Well, having proper shoes woulda made it SLIGHTLY better, but it was still pretty good. Wouldn't have had it any other way. Zion has definitely grabbed my attention; I'm slowly getting addicted to the place. So much to see, so much to do. 

Northgate Peaks, Firepit Knoll, Lambs Knoll

I left the homestead for the Kolob Terrace Road the day after summiting Nippletop and a few other interesting Zion peaks. Shoulda checked my gas before leaving though 'cause that road is darn steep and before I knew it I had less than a quarter tank and I anxiously began wondering if I would have to turn around before doing anything at all. I had a few destinations in mind for the day, all of them spread up and down the road in various locations. The Northgate Peaks (both east and west) were a top priority, located farthest up the road. I'd visit them first. I coasted when I could, the engine runnin' on high hopes and positive vibrations. 

With great luck and much felicity, I managed to make it to my desired location, making a right and pulling into the dirt parking area for the Wildcat Canyon Trailhead. A fairly popular spot, the trailhead serves as a starting point for a wide variety of interesting Zion backcountry locations, the Subway and North and South Guardian Angels among the more notable spots. I found a parking space, grabbed my pack, and then set off down the trail, the air crisp and cool, the ground soft and muddy from snowmelt, the pines fresh and green, the sky an extraordinary blue. 

On the Wildcat Canyon Trail

I passed a junction with the Hop Valley Trail, turning right not long afterwards towards the Northgate Peaks Viewpoint. So far, I hadn't seen a single soul all day. West Northgate Peak loomed off to my right, a delight to the eyes. I soon left the trail for a faint use path to gain its north ridge, although it was pretty obvious where to go. I hiked diagonally down a fairly steep slope, angling towards the base of the peak's north ridge. I started on the sandstone slabs, slowly ascending the steep ridge, careful to avoid the lingering patches of snow and ice.

West Northgate Peak

Headin' up the north ridge

Almost to the summit, East Northgate Peak visible left

I encountered nothing worse than fairly steep class 2 on my way up, deciding to linger a tad to the east when I could. Going straight up the thing would provide less exposure, but it was a bit more steep and I always avoid steep when I darn well can avoid it so I stayed slightly to the east, following a gentle ramp to the base of the final summit push. A brief session on the ol' outdoor stairmaster later and I had made it to the expansive summit, impeccable views in all four cardinal directions.

North Guardian Angel loomed to the south, its steep east ridge scary yet tempting. Pine Valley Peak and Pocket Mesa stood tall in the northwest, their white sandstone bodies in stark contrast with the sea of green that surrounded them. To the east was a mixture of canyons, peaks, hoodoos and mesas, all of them in the Zion backcountry. And of course, sitting right next to me, was East Northgate Peak, a little shorter but still interesting nonetheless. I stayed for a few minutes on the summit, soaking in the views and the sun, shedding layers, drinking water, stuff like that. Once I'd had my fill I donned my pack and set off down the mountain. 

Pine Valley Peak left, Pocket Mesa right

Zion Backcountry, East Northgate Peak center left

North Guardian Angel

Heading back down...

I encountered three spring breakers on my way down. They were taking a break on one of the steeper sections of the north ridge, dressed in cotton t-shirts and shorts and Vans and running shoes, their faces wearing an expression hinting that they didn't really know what they were doing. One of them asked if I had made it to the summit, and I explained how I got there and what to expect. They nodded and thanked me and I wished them well and they said "you too" and then I continued on down, sliding through the snow just for fun. I climbed back up the fairly steep slope I'd descended earlier, picked up the main trail, and followed it all the way to the Viewpoint. 

I passed a couple of people on my way there, noticing a few others taking pictures of West Northgate Peak. The three spring breakers were still in the same spot I'd left them, most likely debating whether or not to turn around. Seems like I wasn't done with their ilk yet, for not long after I spotted them on the ridge I got stuck behind another group of spring breakers, these folks appearing much better prepared with packs and water and a phone with a map on it. I asked if they were going to East Northgate Peak and they said yes and then I asked if they were doing North Guardian Angel as well and they said "What is that?" and that about told me all I needed to know. We followed a very well-worn use trail from the Viewpoint, the spring breakers trying to follow the GPS on their phone. We walked right by the use trail for the summit and continued to the peak's super steep west face. I decided to directly ascend the face, wishing them well and they telling me "good luck." They continued wandering around the west face of the peak, trying to find a way to the top. When I was about halfway up, I looked down and saw that they were following me. Guess they gave up on the ol' GPS. 

The steep west face of East Northgate Peak

I quickly reached the summit, the views, in my opinion, slightly better than those on West Northgate Peak. I could see both North and South Guardian Angels, their summits beautiful and beckoning. The Zion backcountry stretched out before me, the landscape rugged and wild. I could see the descent into the famous Subway, the canyon steep and precipitous. I took some photos, chewed on a PB&J, and then left the summit to an open area just to the south, laying down in the dirt and sand and soaking in the view. The spring breakers eventually made it to the top, wandering a bit farther east to partake in a celebratory summit lunch. After about 10 minutes I got up, gathered my things, and then made my way back, following the use trail this time instead of descending the steep west face.

West Northgate left, Pine Valley Peak right

Headin' down the use trail...

A lot more people were out and about now. I passed a few parties on my way back to the parking lot, some there just for the day, some with their kids, and others dressed in sun hoodies and nylon pants and huge backpacks and trekking poles and looking very serious. I got back to the car, started 'er up, and then coasted most of the way down to my second destination, no longer worried much about gas. 

The next spot on the itinerary was Firepit Knoll, an old cinder cone just northeast of the Hop Valley trailhead. I found a pullout in the road and started walking, leaving behind my pack and water. There was a dirt road that I coulda taken, but I didn't for whatever reason. Instead, I bushwhacked through prickly desert flora on my way over to the west face of the Knoll, ripping a small hole in my shirt. Dang it. Shoulda just taken the road.

Firepit Knoll

Loose

Nearing the rim

I weaved through the brush, crossing the road at one point and then immediately began ascending the steep, loose western face. Not a whole lotta brush anymore, but the going was slow. I left a small forest of trees and entered the brush once again, all of it about chest-high. I zig-zagged up animal trails, approaching the rim. So far, the views were actually pretty good, particularly of Red Butte and the snow-dusted Pine Valley Mountains. Up and up I went, weaving in and around pokey bushes until finally gaining the rim. I could see the high point of the rim to the north, the grassy crater a lot bigger than I expected. The thing really did look like a big ol' fire pit after all. An aptly named summit indeed.

Walking along the rim, bobbing in and out of the brush, I eventually reached the summit, a cairn made out of volcanic rocks marking the highpoint. Semi-brushy views in all directions, not a whole lot going on. I stayed for roughly 2 minutes before retracing my steps off the mountain, glad I checked it out but fixed with the idea to never come back.

Red Butte and Pine Valley Mountains

Summit Cairn

It was a lot easier on the way down. So much so that I slipped and landed on my butt and got a small boo boo on my left wrist. Oh well. Such things happen on old cinder cones. I entered the trees, found the dirt road, and then took the road the rest of the way back to the car. Shoulda just taken that thing on the way it; woulda saved me a whole lotta trouble. 

I considered ascending Spendlove Knoll since it was directly to my left, but decided to save it for later. Instead, I continued on down to my last planned summit of the day: Lambs Knoll. I coasted down the road, pulling into the fairly crowded parking lot. I chugged some water and then set off on the trail, entering a dry wash and noticing several climbers out and about, some of them just little kids no older than seven. 

I followed a very well-worn use trail up a drainage, passing a few climbers who were making their way back down. Not long afterwards, I reached a saddle of sorts and realized I had gone the wrong way. Rats. The summit was off to my left, and unless I wanted to free-solo some sketchy lookin' class 5, I wasn't gonna get up there. So I turned around and went back down a ways before noticing my mistake, taking a less noticeable but still obvious use trail that wrapped around to the south. 

Heading up the drainage

The summit was now to my right, looking much more tame. The use trail eventually disintegrated into the ether, leaving me to wander through a field of aromatic sagebrush. I made my way to another saddle, ascended some class 2 slabs, and then angled north towards the summit. I soon caught sight of it, a red, pointy lookin' thing with a nice class 3 crack leading to the top. I ascended this brief class 3 section, the exposure minimal. 

Lambs Knoll summit

Some minor class 3

Once atop the summit I dropped my pack, sat on the slabs and absorbed the 360° views. These were, without a doubt, the best I'd seen all day. I spent nearly half an hour on the summit, gazing out at the scenery, noting the peaks I'd climbed earlier in the day and a few others I'd like to climb in the future. And then I found a flat spot, put the ol' hat over my head and took a quick snooze, the surrounding temperature feeling exactly like a cozy, warm blanket. 

Southeast

Southwest

West(ish)

Northeast(ish)

East

I drank the last of my water which meant it was time to head back. I retraced my steps, picked up the use path, entered the drainage, and got back on the trail. Back in the car, back on the road, coasting all the way down to the gas station. I'm not sure what kind of tank I have, but the thing drank up 14½ gallons. Very thirsty. Next time I'll definitely check that before setting off on another adventure.  

And that about wraps up the day. It was a lot more mellow than the day prior, mostly serving as a reconnaissance for routes to additional peaks, mostly North and South Guardian Angels. Boy oh boy, thems were some good lookin' mountains. I'll most likely attempt them sometime in the future. In the meantime, just gotta wait for the snow to melt.